


I Just Keep Talking, But Sometimes I Say Nothing At All

by timwsgl



Series: Unbroken!verse [1]
Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Consensual Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Misunderstandings, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 10:00:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6700408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timwsgl/pseuds/timwsgl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some conversations should have taken place a long time ago...</p><p>This series begins just after Akihito returns from Hong Kong (Since I did write this in 2010).</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Just Keep Talking, But Sometimes I Say Nothing At All

Akihito has never forgiven himself for acting like a whore, Feilong’s whore, in order to stay alive; but  _he_ has never seen Akihito as dirty and refuse to touch him. Instead,  _he_ cleanses and overrides any touch that others have left on Akihito.  _That man_ has seen the worst of him, and still  _he_ comes after him to bring him home. Of course, Akihito has never believed  _he_  would do otherwise; but you know, the wait nearly killed him. Physically, as well as emotionally.  
  
Feilong has driven it into Akihito’s head that he is nothing more than a fuck toy to him; and  _he_ will never come for a bedwarmer that  _he_ can get anywhere on the streets. But hey, who takes a bullet, or maybe even two for someone supposedly no more than a fuck toy? So, Akihito supposes that he does mean something more to  _him_...

Personally, Akihito thinks that he is probably more of a prized partner in bed, and so that ‘something’ can simply mean the adjective in front, and mean nothing more than 'glorified fuck-ee'.

 _Great,_ Akihito thinks, _I'm depressing myself. Man, who knew that I can actually be a maudlin drunk._  It is a known fact that Akihito usually becomes boisterous and loud, while doing ridiculous stunts. He raises his glass and toasts silently, _To Akihito, who for once, is not doing something that would embarrass himself later._ Here, he frowns into his glass filled with amber-coloured liquid; it is really weird to think of him-...(my)self as a third person. _No matter_ , he thinks, as he swigs down the remaining beer and slams it down on the counter, signalling for another.

“Hey, Aki, it’s unlike you to be so quiet. What’s up with you today?” Takato asks him. He and Kou had been recruited to be his drinking partners today and Kou is well on his way to being flat-out drunk. Not so the case for Takato who's the designated driver.

Akihito shakes his head at him. “Nothing,” he says. _Too fucking much_ , he thinks. He gives him his best faux-grin, and makes sure that Takato sees only the happy-go-lucky facade, before tipping his head back, drinking the next pint of beer after god knows how many.

He should know better; they are best friends after all. “... Akihito, does this have to do with why you were gone for so long? You’re acting different nowadays,” Takato asks concernedly, brows furrowed.

At this, Kou sways slightly closer to them, somewhat more alert and sober when he hears the worry in Takato’s voice. “Yeah, Aki, you seem more... more... what he said," Kou nods vigorously, before stopping and clutching at the table for support when his whole body sways dangerously after his energetic movements.

Akihito laughs slightly and says, “Yeah, I guess I just realized how fragile life is. Just made me realize that I’m way out of my league, getting involved in things which are obviously too big for me to handle...” Having said this, he realizes that he really _is_ speaking the truth.   
  
Akihito only vaguely notices Takato raising an eyebrow at him before grudgingly accepting his explanation _(it is true that his photography advantures always get him in way too much trouble)_ and Kou nodding sagely – and slowly - at his words, as if he has just uttered the most profound words ever spoken in the human language.

Akihito stands up then, pulling his stuff along with him as he prepares to leave. “Hey, I gotta go somewhere. I just realised that I need to do something...”

He turns away and starts walking even before his friends give him their consent. He pulls out his cellphone and dials the first number on the list...

“Can we talk? I-I need to speak with you about some... stuff. So, can we meet...?”  
  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
_  
He_ has agreed to meet Akihito in his office at Club Sion. Akihito trudges in there, feeling like an underdressed ( _unwanted_ ) visitor, so clearly out of his league. He is surrounded by well-dressed and immaculately coiffed patrons who sneer at his thin T-shirt, worn jeans and scuffed sneakers, not to mention the scruffy bag that has undergone quite a few undercover assignments with him.

However, the fact that Akihito is actually allowed in there while dressed as he is, while _they_ have to be dressed to the nines just to be allowed to stand in line to enter the club gives him confidence. He lifts his head and gives them his best imitation of _his_ arrogant sneer, which can say a lot, ranging from the simple ‘you’re scum’ to the more complex ‘you’re not even worth the dirt on my (fucking expensive) shoes’. Currently, Akihito hopes that his falls somewhere in between and says ‘please, people, don’t even bother classifying me with you because you obviously don’t stand a chance’.

He’s not too sure if he has actually succeeded because the people do not seem to react the same way to his sneer as they normally do to _his_ , which is to retreat (cower)... A smart move, if he does say so himself (One he will do well to learn himself, if only he can just _control_ his temper).

All these petty thoughts leave Akihito’s mind as he is escorted right to _his_ office door. As he steps into the office and the door closes behind him, Akihito cannot seem to help but wonder why he is volunteering to closet himself in the same room as _him_ when normally, he runs as far away as possible from just that thought alone. But in his drunken state, he is probably just acting on (mindless) liquid courage, in exchange for lucid reasoning that his sober mind _-usually_ \- offers.

 _He_ looks up from the paperwork spread on _his_ desk, expressionless eyes calmly assessing Akihito. Akihito stares back at _him_ , without saying a word, taking in the coldly handsome face (beautiful actually, if Akihito is to be honest, in a way that he himself will never be). All planes and angles, golden eyes, flawless skin, strong jaw... all add up to a face that is meant to grace a fashion billboard. Not to mention the body that Akihito is so jealous of (and very acquainted with), which totally outshines the fashion models that Akihito sometimes has to take photographs for – because a man just has to eat, and it’s not like criminals wait around just to be caught in his viewfinder- in between his undercover assignments.

Akihito just does not understand what _he_ sees in him. He gets that he has in his own way, helped _him_ in _his_ dealings against enemies with his photographs (as well as bothering _him_ when _he_ is actually dealing with allies). He also gets that he provides amusement for _him_ , in ways that most others would have (or most probably, already have) died for when showing such disrespect. And, Akihito _definitely_ gets that _he_ seems to derive -a lot of- pleasure out of having sex with him, in _all_ ways (and positions).

However, all these do not explain to Akihito just why _he_ keeps him by _his_ side.

 _His_ brilliant eyes narrow at the continued silence, the only sign of _his_ surprise at Akihito's unexpected behaviour. Akihito decides to break the silence, before he decides to do something stupid – like throw himself at the man and beg to be fucked because he has been aroused ever since he stepped through the door and breathed in the Dunhill cigarette smoke that always reminds Akihito of _him_ , like a fucking Pavlovian response – without any words passing between them.  
  
“Asami, do you want to have a drink with me?”

 ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Akihito is now sprawled on the chair in front of Asami’s desk, nursing a glass of the finest brandy. He had been surprised earlier when Asami, after gazing at him thoughtfully for a while, had agreed. Asami had poured them each a glass of brandy and Akihito had thrown his back like it was water, coughing when the burn of it stung his throat on its way down. But he cannot control himself, even if he is still showing himself to be the immature brat that he once was, even though they both know he no longer is (probably).

He pours himself a new glass and stares into it meaningfully, as if it contains the answers to all the questions he’s dying to ask Asami.  
  
Before he can control himself, he asks without looking up, “I know I asked you once... How are you different from the others who forced me? I mean, I know you say I respond to you. But it’s conditioned... so...yeah, what makes you  _special_?" Akihito spits out the word almost spitefully, because he is confused as to what Asami means to him. He expects Asami to provide him with the answers he’s afraid to voice himself, because he doesn’t want to have been the only one to have fallen so deeply into the deep, dark mire that is their ‘relationship’. He wants to know that Asami, just like himself, can never expect to return to how they once were before they met (the period he 'affectionately' terms as B.A,  _Before Asami_ ; since his time with Asami deserves its own epoch in his opinion), because they have been through too much together...  
  
Asami’s hand freezes in the midst of bringing the glass to his lips. His fingers tighten on the thin stem of the glass and his lips press together into a thin line.  
  
Asami replies in the coldest voice Akihito has ever heard,” You could say it’s because I trained you, and the others are just picking at the leftovers.” _How can he ask me such questions? After what I did for him, does he still not understand what he means to me?_  
  
Akihito’s head jerks up and his face is white with shock and hurt. He slams his glass down on the table and moves to stand up, his anger overriding his inebriation.  
  
“Yeah, that must be it. Thanks for the lesson. You’ve been a great teacher.” Akihito’s voice is tight with suppressed pain and anger. _Why can't we just say what we really mean out loud? Why do we always circle around the truth, like wary dogs circling each other around a bone, each only making small steps forward and big steps backward?_  
  
Asami’s hand reaches out and grabs Akihito’s arm. “Wait,” he says (pleads?) quietly, “I was out of line. Your question just... caught me off guard.” He rubs his other hand across his face, the first restless motion Akihito has ever seen him make.  
  
“I... just can’t... express myself the way you want me to.”  
  
Asami needs for Akihito to understand this. To Asami, words have always been a weapon. In business, against triads, politicians, or whoever he is working with (and ultimately controlling), words can be used against him. Even with his former lovers, they were used as a form of seduction; honeyed words with no meaning once the fuck was over.  
  
He pulls a stiff Akihito into his lap and drops his head onto Akihito’s neck. He breathes in the smell that is uniquely Akihito, clean-smelling shampoo, the faint smell of fixer that seems permanent but is not at all foreign, and Akihito’s own smell that always reminds him of cinnamon and a slight tang of spice.  
  
Asami presses his lips into the juncture where Akihito’s neck meets his shoulder and murmurs, "But I can show you. In exchange, you have to be honest as well.”  
  
He lifts his head and waits patiently for Akihito’s reply. Akihito’s body has relaxed into his, almost unconsciously, molding itself to Asami’s contours. Akihito’s eyes show turmoil for a few moments before his head gives a decisive nod.  
  
_My brave boy, you must keep dashing forward with no fear of the unknown. Do not let anyone keep you from moving forward into the future. Do not let anyone take even a spark of your fire away from you..._  
  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
They are both lying on the spacious couch in Asami’s office. Their clothes are lying in a puddle to the side of the couch.

Asami strokes one hand against his neck, and for a moment just presses gently against his windpipe. Akihito sucks in a quick breath as he is reminded of a night in a tropical paradise. _Because you trust me enough to give me your death..._

His lips slowly caress the scar left on Akihito’s shoulder. The one made by the bullet that the Russian had shot when they were in Hong Kong. _Because you were shot when I failed to protect you..._

Asami’s hands continue their slow exploration of Akihito’s body, smoothing over certain parts of his body. With a start, Akihito vaguely remembers that these are the places where Feilong and the Russians left their marks on him; both in passion, but passion can have so many different connotations. _Because they tried to break your spirit by either fucking or beating it out of you, but you never gave in..._

Asami’s body slides down the couch to lie between Akihito’s spread legs. He uses both hands to hold Akihito’s cheeks apart as he takes a long lick from the crack at the bottom of his spine all the up to his balls. Akihito shudders and tries to will his mind past the lust to understand what Asami is saying through his worship of his body. Asami takes small, darting licks along his perineum and continues teasing him with light, quicksilver flicks of his tongue into his body, never quite breaching the hole. _Because this place belongs to me and only me. I’m the first man you had ever taken into your body, and while I may not be the only one, I swear that from now on, I will be your last..._

Akihito moans and pleads with Asami, never quite able to vocalize what he wants Asami to do. His grasping of Asami’s head to push him even further into himself might just speak enough for itself. But it is not enough. Asami refuses to go any deeper until Akihito’s broken moans of “ _Yours, only yours_ ” finally make themselves coherent enough to be understood.

It is then that Asami’s hands push Akihito’s legs higher and support his thighs while he pushes his tongue further into Akihito’s passage. Asami swirls his tongue around, as if Akihito is a sweet dessert. He withdraws his tongue and then, slides it even deeper into him. This begins his torturous toying of Akihito where after each withdrawal, he slides his tongue even deeper into Akihito; until Akihito is begging for him to stop. He does stop, and Akihito thanks the heavens that for once, Asami is finally listening to him; when Asami decides to up the ante.

He slides his tongue in, stroking his tongue within Akihito's passage, and withdraws it slightly (suspensefully), before sliding it in again, but deeper. His tongue then withdraws completely before laving only the outer surface of his perineum in circles. Once, twice, thrice... then sliding it back in again, this time deeper then he has ever gone before. He repeats the motion before leaving again, this time to nibble on Akihito’s balls, which are drawn up so tight to his body he is ready to burst. But, of course, the bastard Asami knows it... Asami chuckles darkly and goes back to teasing Akihito’s hole. He repeats the action over and over again until Akihito is screaming and pleading for release. Only then does Asami reward him with a lubed finger, where the lube comes from he does not know, but one thing he does know and thanks God for is that it is not going to be a dry fuck.

Asami’s finger along with his tongue is driving Akihito crazy. His talented finger manages to find Akihito’s prostate on the first thrust and continues rubbing over it in small circles while his tongue continues the thrusting motion. Then, he switches actions and now it is his finger that is thrusting within him, always managing to hit his prostate while his tongue massages all over Akihito’s nerve endings as it delves within his passage.

Akihito is writhing, and it will be a wonder if Asami has any hair left by the end of this, since Akihito is gripping his hair so tight. It will also be a wonder if Akihito has any voice left since he is screaming and moaning so loud Asami is grateful that his office is soundproof.

Asami adds another finger; and now with two fingers, coupled with his tongue, Akihito is being driven insane with need. Asami uses his two fingers to alternately press and massage Akihito’s prostate while using his tongue and teeth to tease the outer edges of his perineum.

Asami’s left hand now comes into play when his thumb presses into Akihito’s hole to rub his prostate while he uses his tongue to fuck Akihito and his two other fingers work on opening Akihito up further. These motions, when combined together, cause Akihito to arch his back so high off the couch that he nearly dislodges Asami from his precious perch. When he drops back down, he is panting so hard that tears are streaming from his pretty eyes; and he can no longer draw enough breath to scream.

Asami finally pulls himself up from where he has been lying between Akihito’s thighs and with his left hand, cups Akihito’s face and forces him to look into his eyes. Akihito stares dazedly into Asami’s fierce gaze, unable to look away from the lust, possessiveness - _and something else_ \- burning so brightly within his eyes. Asami’s hand continues working between Akihito’s legs, now adding a third finger to prepare him for Asami. Akihito thinks, with what is left of his mind, that he has never been so well-prepared by Asami before.

Finally, _finally_ , Asami deems him ready and enters him slowly, arms braced above Akihito’s shoulders to control the excruciating pace. Akihito grabs hold of Asami’s arms and with his legs hooked around Asami’s thighs, tries to push himself further onto Asami’s cock. But Asami is not to be deterred. He has something to prove to Akihito.

After a long time, Asami is, at last, seated deeply within Akihito. Both are panting slightly and even Asami is perspiring now, with his sweat dripping onto Akihito’s body. Asami stops all motion and waits until Akihito can finally focus enough to look at him.

_Do you understand what I’m saying now...?_

 Asami looks unblinkingly at Akihito and begins speaking in a deep voice made hoarse with his effort for control, “Only I can do this with you. In your eyes, I may have done what the others did to you...” Here he trails off, but Akihito can hear the ‘ _But, unlike them, I am also capable of this, with you and because of you._ ' Hidden even deeper is the question of why he is capable, but Akihito does not dare to explore  _that_  further. This unspoken explanation is enough, for now.

_Do you know why I’m letting you do this and not fighting back as I always do...?_

Akihito looks back at Asami with unwavering eyes and recovers enough to rasp out, through his sore and scratchy throat, “With Feilong, I struggled and thought of you when he fucked me. No matter how he tried to persuade me to stay with him or how gentle he was...”Akihito pleads with him wordlessly to understand, ‘ _I can only be with you, even if you are rough, because it is you. No one else..._ ' In his eyes, Asami sees Akihito’s unconditional acceptance of him. That he can take whatever Asami gives him, just because.

Asami’s eyes blaze molten gold and his entire body shudders above Akihito. He pulls away from Akihito, to the very hilt, before pushing back into him as deep as he can. Akihito wraps both arms and legs as tight around Asami as he can; taking everything that Asami can give him. They continue the punishing rhythm, the absolute giving and taking of each other, until Akihito comes with a strangled cry, without a hand around his cock, just the stimulation caused by Asami’s rock-hard stomach rubbing against his cock is enough. Asami comes not long after, the squeezing of Akihito’s inner walls in the quaking aftermath of his orgasm around him too much for his oversensitive cock.

Asami’s shaking arms give out but he manages to collapse on his side, off the couch and onto the soft cushion of clothes, without crushing Akihito. He pulls Akihito off the couch gently, and drapes his body over his. One hand is wrapped around Akihito; and they are both panting deeply, unable to say anything. However, there is no need for words because for once, both of them understand what they mean to each other. There are no barriers between them anymore.

Akihito’s hand slowly drifts and lands upon Asami’s chest, lying directly across his heart, as if he’s trying to lay his claim. A small, tired smile spreads across Asami’s face; with one finger, he tips Akihito’s head up towards his and he lays a gentle kiss up on his lips. There is no passion in this kiss and it is almost chaste. Asami then lays his hand upon his chest and laces his fingers with Akihito’s fingers, as if acknowledging Akihito’s claim. He brings Akihito’s laced hand up to his lips and places a reverent kiss upon the back of his hand. 

Sleep is tugging at him, but Akihito cannot help but chuckle wanly, nodding his head in agreement to the word _Mine_ breathed against his skin before he is pulled under...

 

**Author's Note:**

> Reposting this from livejournal, with a few minor amendments, after a freaking long time...


End file.
